


A Fistful of Honeysuckle

by neverminetohold



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, Friendship, Human/Synth Relationship, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slash, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: "When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves." ~ Victor FranklOR: Wherein the Sole Survivor and Nick Valentine play house (minus a kid), fend off nosy – if well-meaning – neighbors, set out to solve a pro bono case and stumble over a ghastly murder.





	A Fistful of Honeysuckle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allekha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/gifts).



The sun was burning hot on his exposed neck as he crouched down to wind the last few inches of the perforated rubber hose around the mutfruit's stem. Satisfied with the arrangement, he picked up what was left of a bedspring and bent the tough wire into one final peg that would hold it all in place. His fingers burrowed deep into the soil as he pushed it in, putting his weight behind it.  
  
"That should do the trick."  
  
Aiden stood up, brushing his hands off on trousers that were already stiff with dirt and dried brahmin dung. The stuff stank to high heaven, but made for excellent fertilizer. His spine popped as he stretched, surveying his work.  
  
Like a coral-colored snake, the hose wound its way around row upon row of not only mutfruits, but also tatos, carrots, melons and corn. The warm breeze rustled through the plants, raising a cloying smell from the ripening fruits.  
  
"Alright," Aiden muttered, pretty sure that nothing much could go wrong here, even considering his special brand of wasteland luck. "C, turn it on."  
  
"Right away, sir," Codsworth called from where he hovered beside the filter system and pumping station that Sturges had rigged up like the genius mechanic he was.  
  
The generator roared to life at the flip of a switch. It took a moment for the pressure to build, but soon enough, a thin trickle of liquid began to pour from the tiny holes until the cracked earth turned dark with moisture.  
  
Stopping beside him, Codsworth doffed his bowler hat. "It seems to me congratulations are in order."  
  
"Couldn't have done it without you," Aiden said, offering his palm for a high five that resounded across the field as skin met the flat of a buzz saw. "Nothing beats General Atomics' precision."  
  
"Quite right," Codsworth agreed in a modest tone, though the way he bobbed gave away how inordinately pleased he was at the compliment. "Mister Aiden. May I suggest that you hurry and take a shower?"  
  
"You saying I stink?"  
  
"Right to your face, sir? Perish the thought!" Codsworth raised one stalk in lieu of an eyebrow, sounding positively scandalized - at least until he dryly added, "Naturally, such talk is reserved for when your back is turned."  
  
Aiden laughed and held his hands up in surrender; getting a good view at the grime that had collected underneath his nails. He did feel pretty gross. "Fine. I'm going. Thanks again for the help."  
  
"Always a pleasure, sir."  
  
Having to squint against the glint of Codsworth's chrome-plated body as the Mr. Handy robot floated away to attend to other matters, Aiden took a moment to check on the crops, and allowed his mind to wander. His life had been quite a journey so far, from juvenile delinquent and black sheep to Anchorage soldier, from discharged headcase and frozen Vault-Tec guinea pig to Minutemen general... and now part-time farmer.  
  
He had rolled with the punches, taken the bad with the good, telling himself that something would make it all worthwhile in the end. And it had worked out, against the odds.  
  
"Just have to hang in there," Aiden muttered to himself, slipping into old habits, letting the yellow leaves of the nearest mutfruit run through his fingers. "There's always more."  
  
Things had changed, irreversibly so, when the bombs had gone off in a blaze of apocalyptic horror. But it hadn't been the end. Just like Sanctuary, he had begun to thrive in the face of adversity. In the wasteland, everything being out to eat or kill you was a simple fact of life.  
  
"And look what we've done with the place."  
  
Aiden did, turning around, towards the sounds of chattering people, the clanking of hammers, Dogmeat's happy bark and wagging tail, as the shepherd bounded over the street, doing his rounds with Jun, who was on guard duty.  
  
Only a year after Aiden had woken, the houses were fixed up again, leaking roofs and the wind howling through the gaps a thing of the past. Preston's group had been the first to call this place home, but far from the last. Now they had a sustainable food supply, a clean source of water, and a thriving market place, with trade routes set up all across the Commonwealth.  
  
Hell, they even had such obscene luxuries as indoor plumbing, Sunday BBQs with mutt chops and radstag steaks, and one hour of electricity a day for personal use.  
  
Raiders, super mutants and the mutated wildlife had been a constant threat, one they wouldn't be rid of any time soon, but with the fortified wall and watchtowers up, people had begun to sleep with both eyes closed at night. There were also automated turrets - and lots and lots of mines and other booby traps. Getting everyone to memorize their layout had been fun in a nerve-racking kind of way, but so far, no one undeserving had been blown up in a spray of gore.  
  
Granted, he still had no clues that would help him locate the Institute or shed light on why they had given the order to kill all those poor bastards in Vault 111, or what the hell it was supposed to mean, that he was left alive as a 'backup,' but life was good.  
  
What more could a guy want after one hell of a wake-up call?  
  
Aiden shook his head to clear it of thoughts that only served to burn daylight. His sweat-soaked hair went flying, most of it right into his eyes. The strip of leather he used to keep it tied in a neat ponytail must have come undone without him noticing, engrossed as he had been.  
  
He went back and forth between the raised beds, looking for it, then gave it up for lost and made for the other side of town. He passed by Mama Murphy in her creaking rocking chair with a friendly wave, pretending not to notice the dissipating haze of Jet fumes that swirled around her wrinkled smile.  
  
She had quit drugs after their talk, couldn't have done otherwise with ever earnest Preston standing at his shoulder, but after a bad fall, that left her with chronic pain in her hip, he didn't have the heart to hold her to that promise. Besides, she took less than before to the point where her second sight no longer kicked in.  
  
And what his SIC didn't know...  
  
Aiden continued along graying picket fences and weedy lawns that, with all the rubble and health hazards removed, were pretty low on the council's priority list, exchanging greetings as he went. Being literally known far and wide thanks to Travis' and Radio Freedom's regular broadcasts and Piper's newspaper articles still made him feel awkward as hell, - a fact he tried hard not to let show.  
  
"Aiden, wait a sec!"  
  
Sturges jogged over from his latest project and handed him a greasy slip of paper. With a sinking feeling, Aiden cast a quick glance over the bullet points in the mechanic's neat but lopsided handwriting. "The weekly list?"  
  
Sturges shrugged and clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly grin. "You know how it is. One man's trash..."  
  
"... is another man's treasure. I _know_. I just wish someone else could lug all that junk around. You realize typewriters and telephones are heavy, right?"  
  
"Screws, plus plastic and steel for the furnace," Sturges said, his attention and feet already drawn back to... whatever that ominously sputtering hunk of machinery he tinkered with was supposed to be. "Make it happen."  
  
Aiden sighed. "Right."  
  
Surprisingly, he made it to his destination without being handed any more errands. Not that he _truly_ minded. As Nick and Piper had been quick to point out, all of them had a do-gooder streak in common.  
  
His own house, right by the Sanctuary Hills sign, had a distinct shanty vibe to it, with its roof of corrugated iron on a wooden frame and the mismatched panels of steel and glass, plus layers of flaking white paint and rust, with accents of bullet holes and laser scorch marks, - but it was home. A lived-in place, no longer the desolate ruin or bleak testament to all mankind - and he personally - had lost that was all he had first seen upon leaving the Vault.  
  
Granted, the most recent addition, a cheerfully blinking neon sign above the door, had a lot to do with him managing to adopt a positive attitude...  
  
Once over the threshold, Aiden left his mud-caked boots behind and made a beeline for the small bathroom. He stripped, tossing the bundle of dirty clothes into the empty laundry hamper. Pulling the plastic sheet closed behind him that served as a shower curtain, he checked the temperature of the five-gallon bag that hung from a hook in the ceiling.  
  
It felt warm enough. He turned the valve above the camping-sized nozzle, letting the drizzle wash over his skin. He lathered himself up from head to toe with a chunk of homemade soap, rubbing rough and fast, fingertips digging in to loosen stiff muscles. Thin wisps of steam rose that smelled of herbs. Relaxing, Aiden closed his eyes and lifted his face, letting the flow of water rinse him off. The suds ran along his legs and swirled down the drain with a faint gurgling noise.  
  
A few minutes later he wandered into the living room with a clay jar in his hand and only a towel wrapped around his waist, lukewarm droplets still dripping from the tips of his hair, to find Nick sitting on the threadbare couch.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Aiden settled down beside him and leaned in for a kiss, squeezing Nick's fingers at about the same time his lips brushed over the rough texture of artificial skin. With tactile sensor input limited to the hands of Gen. 2 synths - presumably for the sake of fine-motor skills, but with the Institute, who could tell? - they had to be a little creative.  
  
At the start of their relationship, Nick had been too damn chivalrous for his own good with his happy-when-you-are-attitude when it came to displays of affection of any kind, never mind sex. Mostly because he struggled with Nick's memories, his sense of self, the fact that he was 'just a machine pretending to be human' - that also missed a few more functioning parts than mere blood cells, despite his snarky claim when they had first met in Skinny Malone's vault.  
  
After the showdown with Eddie Winter, with Nick more at peace with himself, they had started to work things out the usual way: by trial and error. It also probably helped that they were both too old and set in their ways to act like horny teenagers... much.  
  
"Hello handsome," Nick answered with a smile. "Need a hand with that?"  
  
This was a part of their daily routine they both looked forward to, what his mother, ever the romantic in the face of her husband's caustic pragmatism, would have dubbed a 'bonding moment.'  
  
Aiden gave him the jar and turned around. "Please."  
  
Nick's touch was very gentle as he applied the ointment on Aiden's back, one small dab at a time in slow, widening circles. Another swipe, a second layer, and it began to feel cool as the milky substance seeped into the hardened tissue of his scars, that covered most of his left side.  
  
A sentry bot had saved him at Anchorage, had taken the brunt of the explosion and hail of laser fire meant to wipe out the 2nd Battalion in an ambush, but the steam from its vents had washed over him in boiling waves... - or so Aiden had been told. He couldn't actually remember any of it, had lost a whole month worth of memories when he woke from the medically induced coma.  
  
"Alright?"  
  
Aiden hummed and nodded, positioning himself so that Nick could better reach his ribs, throat and cheek. "And you? All set to move in?"  
  
"Brought over the last carton with my files. Just need to sort it all into the cabinets. But... well..."  
  
"Ah. The honeymoon phase is over. We got a case?"  
  
"It's not a case per se," Nick admitted, applying the ointment with even greater care at the corner of Aiden's eye, then closed the jar and set it on the coffee table, beside his battered fedora. "More like a favor."  
  
"Pro bono, huh?"  
  
"Pretty straightforward, too. A family heirloom of sorts was stolen. Remember Lily and her snow globe collection?"  
  
Aiden rubbed his stubbled chin, trying to place the name, then nodded. She was a nice old lady to be sure, a pre-war ghoul, and thus very attached to her trinkets. Only problem was she would drone on endlessly about those things when you so much as crossed her path while visiting Goodneighbor. - And she had once tried to feed him green-glowing pastries, much to Hancock's drugged delight.  
  
"Why would anyone bother stealing a snow globe?"  
  
"Not a clue," Nick said, sounding just as puzzled. "But I already did the legwork, so I know who it was and where he's holing up. Name's Jason. He's part of a small raider outfit that moved to Boston from that amusement park."  
  
"I see. Sounds simple enough."  
  
"That's what I figured," Nick agreed, his yellow eyes flickering a little brighter. "But..."  
  
Waiting a moment, using the time to dry himself off before the cushion soaked it all up, Aiden finally prompted, "But?"  
  
"Well, you see, I got this violent secretary who insists I don't go it alone. Especially now that I've finally managed to find a competent partner, so here I am, requesting backup."  
  
Aiden laughed, remembering that argument well. He had walked right into the thick of it after having taken care of some Minutemen business of his own. Not that he disagreed with any of Ellie's points. Quite the opposite, actually. But between them, they had had so many close calls that playing 'What If' after all was said and done was nothing but a surefire way to drive yourself mad.  
  
"Learned your lesson, huh?"  
  
"You kidding?" Nick grimaced, exposing wires and cables that worked as his jaw clenched. "My ears are still ringing. Ellie got real creative with her threats there."  
  
"Well, we worry."  
  
"And I appreciate it," Nick said, his tone changing from teasing to soft. "But there wasn't any time."  
  
"It's not like I blame you. You saved that kid. Hell, I would have rushed in too."  
  
"Don't I know it," Nick agreed, with so much obvious affection, it was enough to make a grown man blush. "You good to go?"  
  
"Yeah, just let me get dressed and we can head out," Aiden said and got up. "You don't mind sticking with the provisioner, right? I thought it would take you longer to handle things in Diamond City, so I volunteered as guard."  
  
"Be glad to help. Just so happens that the building Jason's hiding out in is close to Hangman's Alley anyway."  
  
"Sounds almost too convenient if you ask me," Aiden mused, padding on naked feet across the corridor to their bedroom.  
  
"Don't you jinx us," Nick called after him, voice muffled through the walls.  
  
Aiden changed into fresh clothes and the assortment of leather armor he felt most comfortable wearing. It offered protection without restricting his movement, which was vital, considering that combat in the wasteland mostly came down to a cross between gang shoot-out and guerrilla warfare with a side serving of feral ghouls, brute force, and gruesome cannibalism.  
  
Next he grabbed the modified gun belt with his trusted Glock and the flare gun and cinched it tight around his waist. A combat knife went into his right boot, the small leather case with his lock picks into the left. On the way out he checked his clip and the three spares, then holstered the gun and picked up the backpack that leaned in the corner beside the slowly filling bookshelf.  
  
"Sir, I've taken the liberty of packing some food for the road," Codsworth said, stopping him and Nick on the doorstep. "And a first-aid kit."  
  
The last came out both dry and somewhat pointed, making Aiden grin. "Thank you, C. You're the best."  
  
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."  
  
"Now, now." Aiden took the offered canteen and packages, feeling the syringe of a Stimpak and sandwiches through the paper wrapping, and stashed them safely away. "It's not a competition."  
  
"Indeed, sir."  
  
"Alright, then," Aiden said, slipping into his duster. He shouldered the canvas backpack and adjusted the straps. "Hold down the fort, C."  
  
"Take care now, Codsworth."  
  
"Leave it to me, sirs. All trouble coming this way will be met with the full might of General Atomics," Codsworth assured them, giving his buzz saw a roaring spin for good measure. "Do stay safe, both of you."  
  
XXX  
  
"Finally!" Meg exclaimed, digging in her heels to prevent her pack-brahmin from pushing her over as it nibbled on her fraying shirt. "Was just considering filing a missing person's report!"  
  
She grabbed the reins more tightly and started marching off through the main gate at a rapid pace, towards the footbridge and Red Rocket station beyond, pulling the protesting animal along. Her rifle shouldered and squinting eyes darting every which way, she looked ready for anything.  
  
"Sorry about that, Meg," Aiden apologized, since it cost him nothing to be polite; though judging by the position of the sun, they were right on time.  
  
"Didn't know you would be along for the ride, too," she commented when he wasn't the only one to catch up with her. "Good to have you."  
  
"Glad to be here," Nick answered, in the slightly distracted tone that meant he was running system diagnostics in the background.  
  
There was no more talk after that, all of them too busy being on the lookout for trouble. The shrubs, trees and rusted car husks along the road provided too much cover to risk their lives, one third of their latest harvest, and bottlecaps in a careless moment.  
  
Meg did cast them sidelong glances though, as if she couldn't decide whether to be amused or exasperated. She tried to be subtle about it, to do it covertly, but failed miserably due to her hilarious overacting that included shooing away invisible flies or faking a coughing fit _every single time_ she snug a peek at them.  
  
Fearing that he would crack up if it went on for much longer, Aiden had just decided to go ahead and ask her about it, when Nick beat him to it. "Something the matter?"  
  
"No," Meg said, though the corners of her mouth twitched as if she were fighting a grin. "I'm fine. Totally fine. Everything's great."  
  
Aiden simply shrugged when Nick turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, Meg was an odd duck. She preferred to be on the road as a provisioner or hide out in her own four walls, and anyone prying into her affairs was met with the business end of her rifle. - Or a fork.  
  
People that had survived for years all on their own, out here? Aiden figured they had every right to develop a few... quirks along the way.  
  
The weather was holding into the afternoon as they walked on cracked pavement, checking for mines along the way, - unlike last week, where radiation storms had blown in one after the other, with enough acid rain to make the river swell with white-capped currents. The sound of explosions carried over to them on the wind, but it was faint, almost drowned out by the mooing brahmin that seemed unhappy with its high stacked burden, and the soft metallic creaking of Nick's joints, that had become as familiar to Aiden as his own heartbeat.  
  
Moments like these, outside the city, the wasteland of the Commonwealth felt wide open and empty, not unlike the Anchorage Bowl had, except the ground was not covered with snow and frozen corpses.  
  
He could almost feel it, the bite in the air as ice pricked his skin in dancing flurries that reduced visibility to zero. The smells too, acrid propellants, congealed blood and ruptured intestines, the ozone of discharged lasers... and the screams. God, those _screams_.  
  
Sweat began to itch on his palms as a chill ran down his spine and his pulse started to race, turning the world around him by turn sharp and blurry - and then Nick was there, bumping gently into him.  
  
"You alright?"  
  
Aiden took a deep breath and got a hold of himself. Funny how that kind of thing never happened to him when the shit really hit the fan. "Fine."  
  
"Something wrong?" Meg asked and slowed down.  
  
"Nothing to worry about," Nick assured her, knowing from past experience that Aiden couldn't have dredged up a reply just then even had he tried.  
  
They passed half way through Concord without incident, aside from a swarm of attacking bloodbugs that were quickly taken out and field dressed for their meat, until only their wings, spindly legs, and carapaces were left behind.  
  
Nick was a crack shot, even at long distances, though Cait adamantly argued that anyone relying on a targeting computer was a cheat who owed her a drink. Or five.  
  
Wiping the last smears of blood and viscera from his knife with an old rag, Aiden spotted movement behind the crumbling wall of a boarded-up house. He exchanged a glance with Nick, ready to tell Meg to fall back - not that the old battleaxe would have listened - when three men left the shadows of their hiding place and took off in the other direction.  
  
"Raiders. Those damn fuckers," Meg grumbled, tossing her bald head with a snort like a bull ready to charge. "And here I was hoping for a little action."  
  
"You thinking scouts?" Nick asked, holstering his pipe revolver pistol.  
  
"Maybe. Now that we're organized they've become a lot more careful," Aiden said, busy loading his flare gun with the right ammunition.  
  
He raised his arm, aiming for the clear blue sky, and squeezed the trigger. The charge raced upwards with a low whistling noise, then exploded in a cloud of yellow powder and bright light that could be seen for miles.  
  
"Right," Meg hissed under her breath, keeping the startled pack animal in check with a firm hand. "Go ahead. Invite them all for dinner."  
  
She had barely finished speaking when another signal was sent up over Tenpines Bluff, setting off a chain reaction as the lookout in each settlement passed the warning of a potential threat on.  
  
"Hmph. Can't believe that works... and so well, too," Meg commented dryly, pointing towards where the main road took a sharp left turn.  
  
"Now look at that." Nick chuckled. "Trained them well, didn't ya."  
  
"'Protect the people at a minute's notice'," Aiden quoted, not without a hint of pride, though he had to shake his head at the outrageous coincidence.  
  
They watched in silence as the squad of Minutemen approached them, twelve men and women in total, complete with their iconic laser muskets and the new uniform that lent them an air of formality and authority. The man in the lead - one of Ronnie Shaw's vets - snapped to attention with a crisp salute that made the ends of his impressive mustache jump and bristle.  
  
"General!"  
  
"At ease, Sergeant Norden," Aiden said, only then noticing that he had straightened in automatic response. He promptly slouched again, eliciting an amused noise from Meg. "We spotted three raiders in the area. Might be scouts sent by a larger group, so stay alert."  
  
Norden nodded gravely. "Some settlers at Finch Farm told us the same yesterday. I've already contacted HQ to set up additional patrols."  
  
"Good thinking."  
  
"Thank you, sir. We were about to return to The Castle when we saw your -"  
  
"Excellent," Meg interrupted. "Then you can escort me the rest of the way to Hangman's Alley."  
  
"But -"  
  
"They need those supplies. And no raider worth his salt would risk taking on a whole group of Minutemen," Meg argued, clearly not interested in a discussion and very determined to get her will. "Besides, you have a case, right?"  
  
"I'm not one to leave a job half finished," Aiden protested, puzzled by Meg's sudden desire to get rid of her escort. So far, they had gotten along just fine.  
  
"Me neither," Nick added, studying her with that thoughtful look that usually led to keen insights and solid deductions. "But if that's what you want."  
  
Remembering that he was an officer and gentlemen, not a beached walrus, Norden recovered the pragmatic and stoic disposition he was known for, and declared: "Serving the people of the Commonwealth is our duty."  
  
"Well, that's settled then." Meg winked at them with a suggestive smirk that made Norden's left eyelid twitch. "You two, have fun. - After you, sergeant."  
  
Aiden waited until the whole lot was well out of hearing range before he dared to ask, "What the hell was that about?"  
  
"I think that was Meg trying to give us some alone time," Nick explained. "Heh. It's pretty sweet of her, all things considered."  
  
Aiden needed a moment to digest that, implications and all. "Wait. Are you telling me that people think our cases are just an excuse to get out of town? To screw? Do we look like we have an outdoor kink or something?"  
  
"Not 'people', just Meg. Besides, it's not like they'd be wrong," Nick pointed out mildly, ever the voice of reason.  
  
"That was _once_! And totally your fault."  
  
"Guilty as charged," Nick admitted rather cheerfully. "But it did happen. Now, if Meg saw us, it'd be natural for her to jump to conclusions, considering that she's still pretty new in town."  
  
That sounded about right. Weird, but at least probable. Aiden wasn't exactly embarrassed at the thought of an accidental voyeur... Still, good thing he wasn't a screamer. - And sex in a ruin? As fun as that had been, it certainly made his top ten list of foolhardy things to avoid in the future. Feral ghouls sneaking up on you kinda ruined the mood...  
  
"Guess she really wouldn't know any better. Huh... _especially_ if she was around when Marcy ranted on about how 'unnatural' a human-synth relationship is."  
  
Not quite meeting his eyes, Nick shrugged, producing a grating, metallic sound. "Well, she's taken her divorce pretty hard."  
  
"It's _Marcy_. You can bash her just a little," Aiden joked, but instantly regretted it. That day, Nick had come very close to discovering the limit of his tolerance for that kind of bullshit. "Kidding aside, she was completely out of line."  
  
"True, but I think Codsworth did a great job avenging us."  
  
"Yeah, and we couldn't exactly allow the whole thing to escalate." Aiden rolled his aching shoulders with a resigned sigh and adjusted his backpack. They had maybe two hours of daylight left, just enough to reach their usual hideout. "Let's keep moving. We can talk with Meg when we get back."  
  
XXX  
  
Aiden was chewing on a slice of brahmin salami, savoring the taste of smoked meat, when a scuffle broke out in the adjacent room. He swallowed and listened, alert but not alarmed.  
  
He knew he had no reason to be. Every time they made the trek to Diamond City they spent the night in this safe house - courtesy of Deacon and the Railroad - and the traps had still been primed when they had slipped inside, using the concealed entrance that looked like a boarded-up window, except this one swung open on cleverly hidden hinges.  
  
That left one possible threat: radroaches. Only they could fit through the pipes that connected to the sewers. As if on cue, the loud crack and squelch of split chitin could be heard.  
  
Nick returned from his quick sweep of the premises, brushing cobwebs from his trench coat. "All clear."  
  
Aiden washed the last mouthful of his sandwich down with a long sip from the canteen, then wiped his lips on the back of his hand. "You think they lay their eggs in here somewhere?"  
  
"I don't think so," Nick said, and settled down beside him, back to the wall. "Would have found them by now, the way those slimy heaps stink."  
  
The mattress they sat on was the only piece of furniture the house had to offer, besides a dimmed lamp and some open crates with supplies for the road. The other rooms were mostly inaccessible, filled with debris and choking in dust.  
  
Aiden shifted until he could use Nick's shoulder as a pillow. A bony and hard one, but the thought counted. "I'm beat," he mumbled through a yawn, inhaling the soothing scent of hot metal with a hint of ozone.  
  
"Can't say I'm surprised after all your hard work. You did good," Nick praised, never one to dismiss any good deed or effort that helped people make a better living.  
  
He spoke right by his ear, but Aiden couldn't feel it. That too had become familiar, the lack of breath that should have fanned his skin. This close, he could hear fluids being pumped through tubes by mechanical organs, the grinding of joints and thrum of hydraulic muscles, as Nick lifted his free arm to idly trace a fingertip along his cheekbone and nose.  
  
"Hmm," Aiden hummed, closing his eyes. "Don't stop."  
  
"I'd love to but you'll regret it in the morning if you fall asleep like this," Nick said and prodded him in the ribs, hitting that darn ticklish spot with expert precision.  
  
Aiden grumbled a protest and jerked away, if only far enough to wrap himself in his duster and stretch out on the mattress that Nick vacated to take up his position by the entrance. Since he had no need for sleep and it was just the two of them, guard duty fell squarely on his shoulders, just as he preferred.  
  
"Sleep well."  
  
"You just want to watch me all night," Aiden mock-accused through another yawn. Good thing too, because Nick could dispel his hellish nightmares with a whispered word and light touch. "G'night."  
  
XXX  
  
He made his way out of the building he had swept for any sign of life with a bad feeling. Despite what common sense dictated when setting up camp in Boston's ruins, he had only found garbage, dust, and mold. - Well, that and a telephone for Sturges.  
  
"I don't like this," Aiden said as he reached the shadowed corner they had lain low in for two hours to stake the place out before deciding to have a closer look. "No guards, no traps, no nothing."  
  
Nick was frowning too, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Same here."  
  
They turned to stare at the last and smallest house that loomed before them, its lower windows barred, dark hollows with teeth of broken glass, the old brickwork cracked and bleached by the sun. The whole neighborhood was eerily silent.  
  
"Only one way to be sure."  
  
Not about to argue, Aiden reached into his left boot and pulled out the thin leather case that was a leftover from his misspent youth. Brown grass crunched underneath his soles as he squatted down to inspect the lock. With a scowl, he gave the door a gentle push. It swung open on rusty hinges with a high-pitched screech straight out of a horror flick.  
  
Weapons drawn and ready, with Nick covering his six, Aiden headed inside. As soon as they stepped into the spacious entrance hall they got hit by the sickly sweet stench of decay.  
  
A grotesque display greeted them, illuminated by golden rays of light. The naked bodies of six raiders had been arranged as if they were dancing a stately waltz. Their pallid hands were nailed in place, each pair frozen in the parody of an intimate embrace. Piano wire and hooks let into the ceiling held them upright. Their throats had been cut, the heads almost severed, dangling between their shoulder blades from thin strips of tendons and discolored skin. Fat maggots wriggled in their wounds, some the cause of death, others defensive, while insects buzzed through the room in a dark cloud.  
  
The floor was painted red with smeared footprints and drag marks, the walls spattered high with arterial spray - and their original reason for coming here, Lily's flower-filled snow globe, sat right in the middle of it all, pristinely clean.  
  
"Oh Jesus...," Nick muttered, in the shock-flat tone of someone who had thought he'd seen it all, though he quickly composed himself. "Well, this is Jason and his gang, alright. - Aiden, you holding up?"  
  
"Peachy," Aiden lied with a grimace, trying his best not to gag despite the sour bile rising in his throat. "I'm not squeamish, but this..."  
  
"Want to wait outside while I take a closer look?"  
  
"Nah, I'm good," Aiden assured him. "Just took me by surprise. I mean... this is not exactly our usual fare of wasteland savagery. It looks more like... I don't know. Some kind of twisted art exhibit."  
  
"You're right. In which case there might be a signature...," Nick trailed off, something stuck between the teeth of one raider having caught his attention. "What do we have here?"  
  
It was a square piece of paper, smudged and crinkled with dried saliva. The words 'Pickman was here. Find me if you dare' had been written on it in blood and signed with a heart. The script was curved and elegant, the tone of the issued challenge bold and mocking.  
  
"If nothing else, that guy got guts."  
  
"He sure likes to kick the hornet's nest." Nick pulled out his notepad and rapidly filled a few pages with neat lines of shorthand before flipping it shut. "Definitely not his first time either."  
  
"Didn't Hancock mention something last Friday?" Aiden bent down to gingerly reach between the hairy legs of the nearest dancers to retrieve Lily's snow globe. "About the raiders being 'uncomfortable post-coitus' quiet?"  
  
Nick blinked and tilted his head as if this were news to him. "He did?"  
  
"I think you were busy kicking Fahrenheit's ass at chess."  
  
"Now that I do remember," Nick said with a wry snort. Drugs and almost stripping had been involved; shame that it was the only way to get intel out of her. "Hm, in any case, we should head to Goodneighbor. Tell Lily the news and follow up on this mess."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Aiden agreed, making for the fresh air outside with long strides. "A serial killer is the last thing we need."  
  
"Won't be an easy task, getting the drop on this bastard," Nick mused, clearly not realizing how excited he sounded at the prospect of having a 'real' case on his hands. "What?"  
  
"Nothing." Aiden tried to wipe the smirk from his face. "Don't act like you don't enjoy the challenge."  
  
"Well... I do," Nick admitted, sounding a tad embarrassed. "A major case? It's been a long time."  
  
"I hear you," Aiden said, feeling that thrill himself, despite the lives already lost.  
  
Settling in for another long walk in comfortable silence, they left the house with its gruesome murder scene behind - only to turn the corner and run into a group of hungry super mutants.  
  
Aiden's only thought while gunning them down, dodging their lumbering advance and wild swings, was that this too, weirdly enough, had become part of his daily routine; just like trusting Nick to have his back.  
  
Through the eyes of the man Aiden had once been, this life would have seemed like a mad fever dream; the price paid for survival far too high. That had been his conclusion upon leaving Vault 111 - until he had found Codsworth waiting for him.  
  
And then he had met Nick Valentine. The rest, as they said, was history.


End file.
